It was midnight on the murder mile\\
Wilson Pickett's finest hour\\
I was walking towards the flashing smile\\
of the Crystal Palace Tower\\
past the big old church where the hands of God\\
were stuck on lucky 7\\
And the bells inside were limbering up\\
for a sawn-off shotgun wedding\\
From the gas board to the fire brigade\\
there's a dozen GPO's,\\
an all night chicken takeaway\\
which was [[finger lickin' closed]]\\
As I passed the wonder of good old [[Woolworths]]\\
my travel card expired\\
It was midnight on the murder mile\\
O.K. let's riot\\
\\
In the avenues and alleyways\\
I took a short-cut to the throat\\
I was stitched up by the boys brigade\\
and I was beaten to a pulp\\
I was marinaded, regurgitated\\
and served up as a cold meat\\
And as they shoved me in the blender\\
I remembered as daddy told me,\\
\\
IF THE CONCRETE AND THE CLAY BENEATH YOUR FEET\\
DON'T GET YOU SON\\
THE AVENUES AND ALLEYWAYS ARE GONNA DO IT\\
JUST FOR FUN\\
THEY'LL SUCK YOU IN AND SPIT YOU OUT\\
AND LEAVE YOUR FAMILY LONELY\\
THE TELEPHONES ON STICKS WILL TELL YOU\\
999 CALLS ONLY\\
\\
But it's too late to call the fire brigade\\
an ambulance or the cops\\
I need the [[father, son and holy coast guard]]\\
OPERATOR!\\
Long distance, information get me Jesus on the line\\
I need communion, confirmation and absolution for my crimes\\
I need a character witness Jesus I think I'm about to die\\
I saw my whole life pass before me when the night bus passed me by\\
\\
It was 3 O'clock on the murder mile\\
when I came to my senses\\
And my only death wish was that I had\\
a [[sockful of fifty pences]],\\
a public execution that the whole neighbourhood could watch\\
Or just a phone box, a phone box, [[my kingdom for a phone box]]\\
\\
IF THE CONCRETE AND THE CLAY BENEATH YOUR FEET\\
DON'T GET YOU SON\\
THE AVENUES AND ALLEYWAYS ARE GONNA DO IT\\
JUST FOR FUN\\
WHEN THEY'VE SUCKED YOU IN AND SPAT YOU OUT\\
AND LEFT YOUR FAMILY LONELY\\
THE TELEPHONES ON STICKS WILL TELL YOU\\
999 CALLS ONLY \\